The fire crackled between them, its warmth mingling with the cool evening breeze. The Greenlander Mage sat cross-legged on the ground, their curious eyes fixed on Jackal, who leaned against a nearby rock. Ce'cell had left, heading into the wilderness to scout ahead, leaving Jackal and the Mage alone for the first time since they'd met.

Jackal’s lips curled into a smirk, the moonlight casting shadows on his features. “So, you’ve been listening to Jackal speak Common, yes? But you haven’t heard him speak Baladan, have you?” His tone was light, almost teasing, but there was a genuine excitement in his eyes.

The Mage nodded eagerly, intrigued by the idea. “I’ve heard you speak it with the locals in the cities. It sounds... strong, like the wind and the mountains.”

Jackal chuckled, a low, gravelly sound. “Aye, Baladan’s got a bite to it, no doubt.” He sat up straight, his fingers brushing the edge of his dagger absentmindedly. “Jackal’ll teach you, if you’re keen on learning.”

With a quick glance at the Mage, Jackal’s voice dropped into a more formal tone. “'Velek ta'ur.' That’s 'hello' in Baladan. Say it like you're ready to face the world.” He gave a wink, the teasing glint never leaving his eyes. “Try it.”

The Mage hesitated for a moment, then mimicked the phrase, the words awkward on their tongue. Jackal’s laughter was warm, a soft rumble in the quiet of the night. “Close enough. You'll get it. Baladan’s a hard one for foreign lips.”

As the night stretched on, Jackal taught the Mage more words, his voice shifting between the familiar tones of instruction and the occasional flirtatious remark. He was animated when he spoke in Baladan, the language flowing from him with ease and confidence. But as the Mage struggled with a phrase, Jackal’s tone softened, a rare glimpse of tenderness beneath his usual charm.